Journey to the Tower
by Sey'nandri
Summary: "...A shudder ran through Ayina as she gazed up at the White Tower, dwarfing buildings large and small that surrounded it. This was her only choice. Especially after what happened to Dameon..."
1. Hidden Powers

Dueljewl: This whole thing actually stemmed from a character bio I was making up for an online RPG so I really have no idea how it's going to turn out. I really don't think this turned out all that bad, but then, what do I know.  
  
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A shudder ran through Ayina as she gazed up at the White Tower, dwarfing buildings large and small that surrounded it. The wind blew fiercely, pushing her long, tawny hair into eyes impossibly blue. Tears stung her eyes as she forced herself forward, one careful step after the other. This was her only choice. Especially after what happened to Dameon. She could still see his frightened face right before it had happened.  
  
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She carried the small wicker basket by her side, casually strolling through the street leading to the small village found a few miles from her family's farm. It wasn't often that she could go about town for leisure and she wanted to enjoy it as long as possible. Dameon, her little brother of nine years, trailed behind her, idly thwapping the ground with a stick he had picked up as they walked.  
  
"I'm hungry Ayina." He complained loudly, stopping in his tracks and crossing his arms stubbornly.  
  
"We'll eat when I'm done with the shopping." She had replied irritably, swinging around to hurry her brother along.  
  
"I wanna eat *now*." He demanded, stomping his foot to add emphasis to his order.  
  
Ayina stepped forward, reaching to grab him by his shoulder and drag him bodily to the village. Three shapes sprang up before her, suddenly coming into view as they turned one of the many corners of the twisting country road. A frightened look passed across her face and she reached for Dameon fearfully, anxiously grabbing his arm and pulling him back with her. Dameon looked up at her in utter confusion, running a hand through his tawny curls.  
  
"Whatsa matter Ayina?" he asked, puzzlement flashing across his face. He turned to look back at what had frightened his older sister, stopping suddenly.  
  
Behind him loomed the tall, bulky figures of three rough looking men, all very obviously drunk from the slight stumble as they walked. All three wore a leering grin as they peered at Ayina. They advanced menacingly; seemingly unaware of Dameon backed into Ayina, gripping the stick in front of him like someone would when holding a sword.  
  
"What do we have here?" one of them drawled, his words slurred together drunkenly.  
  
"Pretty girlie. Come closer, we don't bite." The middle quipped, his words somewhat less slurred than his companion's.  
  
The remaining man stood silently, his eyes burning hungrily. He advanced quicker than his friends, striding hurriedly to reach her faster. As he came closer, Dameon lashed out with his thin stick, smacking the man's outstretched hand. He cried out in pain, quickly bringing his hand back to his face. A small trickle of blood leaked from a knuckle, working its way down the back of his hand in a small, crimson river. At this his companions laughed loudly, stumbling into each other in their drunken mirth.  
  
He growled loudly, wiping the blood from his hand. "I'll teach you to strike me boy." He spat.  
  
He reached out and grabbed Dameon; his movements surprisingly fast for such a large man. Easily he lifted Dameon, yanking the stick from his little hands and tossing it aside just as easily as he tossed Dameon. Dameon flew through the air, only stopping when he crashed into the trunk of a nearby tree. He slid down the tree, a faint red trail following behind his head.  
  
Ayina shrieked as Dameon fell, starting to run towards him when a large, sweaty hand engulfed her arm, the grip iron tight. The large man swung her around to face him, pressing her against him as his friends laughed stupidly. She pulled against his grip as hard as she could, twisting in his hairy arms.  
  
"Stop moving girl, and it'll all be over before you now it." He growled down at her, his lips pulled back in a toothy snarl and hungered eyes burning though her skin.  
  
"Don't touch her!" came Dameon's childish shout, his voice weak and distant sounding.  
  
Ayina turned her head to face her younger brother, still twisting in the man's arms. His face was drawn tight in a grimace of pain and bright, sticky blood shinning against his golden curls. His bright green eyes seemed faded in color as he stood there weakly, challenging the three much older and stronger men.  
  
One of the men, the smallest of the three, laughed out loud -- head thrown back and chest heaving -- at such a ridiculous scene. He advanced on Dameon slowly, taking his time about reaching the small, wounded boy.  
  
A look of utter fear passed over Dameon's face; but not from the older man. His green eyes seemed to be seeing something no one else could. A strange mixture of complete joy and revulsion passed over his face. He bent double sharply and then straightened just as suddenly, his eyes unfocusing and the pupil receding into the iris. A strangled howl was ripped from his boyish throat, cutting Ayina deeply as Dameon suffered. Jolting tremors wracked his small body as he slowly sank to his knees, his shoulders twitching from an unknown source of pain.  
  
The man who had been approaching Dameon so confidently only moments before stopped suddenly at Dameon's unusual and unnerving display. As he stepped backward the ground beneath his feet suddenly shot upward in a fountain of compacted dirt. He yelped and lunged to the side, trying desperately to avoid the blast of earth. Another spike of earth shot up to his side and another and another, each spiking as he moved and surrounding him in a cage made of bars of earth.  
  
Ayina was suddenly released as her captor threw her away from himself. He fell to the ground, twisting and jerking as his body hit, hands grasping his head and a roar pulsing in his throat. He fell over backwards; his body curled into a fetal position, jerking into positions the human body was never meant to be twisted into.  
  
The third man was running down the road frantically, trying to outrun whatever had befallen his comrades. Dameon's head had lolled to one side and he raised an arm as if he didn't control his body anymore, just a puppet someone was using. A blinding bar of pure white fire shot through the air, striking the man in the back. The man froze as the light hit him, slumping lifelessly to the ground.  
  
Ayina rose to her feet shakily, not wanting to believe what she had just saw. A purple bar still flashed across her vision as she took slow steps towards her baby brother, a hand reached in front of her hesitantly. Almost unconsciously she noticed the end to her captors thrashing and the fact that no more spikes of earth shot from the ground. Both men lay slumped on the ground, unmoving even to breathe.  
  
"I didn't mean to."  
  
Ayina jerked her hand back at her brother's sudden vocalization. His eyes seemed more faded in color than before, almost a watery color fading into nothing. He looked up as she continued to come forward and a choked sop escaped his pale lips. His head rolled back and forth, stopping suddenly with chin to chest.  
  
"I'm so sorry."  
  
Just as she was about to say something more, his body seemed to fill with light. Ayina flung a hand up to protect her eyes from the brilliance of it and stumbled, falling onto her back. Just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. As the light faded, he was no longer on his knees, sobbing into his chest.  
  
"NOOOOO!"  
  
The strangled cry was ripped from her throat as she looked at where her younger brother lay his body completely lifeless. Tears streaked across her dirt stained cheeks in rivulets of crystal water. She scrambled to his little body, not bothering to lift herself from the ground. She picked his head from the ground, cradling it in her arms as she rocked back and forth.  
  
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Ayina wiped the fallen tears aside as she continued to force herself to the Tower; they would not help her now, not where she was going.  
  
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Dueljewl: That wasn't *too* bad . was it? R&R and tell me what you think plz. Even if you hated it, I still want to know what you didn't like. Helps me out with my writing skills (if you can call the garbage I keep posting on this site *writing*). 


	2. A Simple Test

Dueljewl: Hopefully this chapter is much better than the last one. I was just in such a hurry to get it published and I really didn't double check it. Enjoy.  
  
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As Mistress of Novices, it was Sheriam Sedai's duty to test novice hopefuls. A task she found tedious and yet, at the same time, oddly satisfying. There was nothing greater than seeing the expression of a young woman embracing Saidar for the first time.  
  
At the moment, she stood in her orderly study with her back to the door, looking out a window. She was observing the daily goings on of one of the Towers' many courtyards. Two girls in the pristine white of novices were busy weeding the enomous flower beds that dotted all of the courtyards in tasteful arrangments, more sparse in those areas designated for novices or Accepted than the Aes Sedai. A third girl, this one Accepted with the seven bands of color around the hem of her dress, swept the pathways.  
  
A loud know on her study door interupted her quiet reverie of her own days as a young novice. She remained looking out the window, wanting to savour the rich scene of the beautiful spring day.  
  
"Enter." she called.  
  
The door opened to admit a tall, gangly Accepted with straight blond hair and long, severe looking face. From were she stood, Sheriam was able to catch a reflectoin of the girl in the window. The Accepted fell into a curtsy that was only slightly wobbly, not as deeply as a novice would but no where near as shallow as a fellow Aes Sedai.  
  
"Yes?" Sheriam questioned, turning from the window to gaze at the young girl.  
  
"There is a young woman here to be tested for becoming a novice, Sheriam Sedai."  
  
The girl had been looking at her but also looked as though reading something from a practiced script in her mind. She finished of the rehearsed rote with another curtsy. A small smile tugged at the corners of Sheriam's mout at the girls nervousness but managed to retain the perfect serenity Aes Sedai were famous for.  
  
"Send her in then." Sheriam said calmly, gesturing with a hand to the large, wooden door.  
  
The young girl bobbed yet another curtsy and hastenend from the door, making Sheriam wonder how she had ever managed to complete the Three Arches. Seconds later she appeared with a relatively young girl; she had seen no more than 17 winters at the most.  
  
Sheriam smiled warmly as the girl entered; she could feel the spark in this one already. It was too early as of yet to find how strong she would become, but at the moment she was already relatively strong in the power. Sheriam felt sure she would become one of the stronger channellers they already had at the Tower.  
  
"Sit child." Sheriam said, gesturing to a wooden chair in front of her desk. She clanced up to see the Accepted standing by the doorway, hesitating between staying and leaving. "You may leave us. I'm sure you have plenty of studing you have need of completing."  
  
The Accepted bobbed a curtsy and left hurriedly, this time completly unnoticed by the Aes Sedai; she was focusing on the young woman before her.  
  
A certain tightness encircled impossibly blue eyes, equally positioned in a face that was a mix of the Sealdean tilted eyes and high cheek bones and the Andoran paleness. Dark red hair tinged with gold highlights framed her face in small ringletts that spiraled down half of her back.  
  
"Tell me child," The Mistress of Novices began, "have you started to channel yet?"  
  
The girl hurriedly looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers nervously. Sheriam let the question hang in the air a few minutes more before movingon, being quiet used to frightened young girls in the prescence of Aes Sedai for the first time.  
  
"If you haven't, you will; you have the spark in you girl. Consider yourself lucky child; most girls don't even realize they can channel before they try to take in too much of the power, burning themselves out or killing themselves in accidents."  
  
The girls head jerked up at this and Sheriam was confronted by peircing blue eyes, practically pinning her to her spot. She blinked in surprise and tilted her head sideways, from any other woman as good as their mouth dropping open and eyes widening. Sheriam shook her head and attepted to put the girl at ease by another warm smile.  
  
"I don't think I was ever told your name."  
  
"Ayina Tal'avin, Aes Sedai." she answered, her voice somewhat reflecting that of a Cairhienin. Truly unique this one was; a blend of some of the most diverse cultures.  
  
"The most important part of this test is going to be your ability to concentrate on my words. I will know some-what your potential, even if you are not sure yourself." Sheriam made sure that the girl was watching her, and opened herslef to the source then embraced Saidar gently. Immediately, her eyes widened.  
  
"When a woman touches Saidar, this is what she looks like. You might not be able to see it around yourself, but I will. Don't worry about anything except the sound of my voice, and listen only to my words. This is an exercise that you will probably repeat a thousand times while you are a novice, and the sooner you are familiar with it, the better." Sheriam released her hold on Saidar and urged Ayina to close her eyes.  
  
As Ayina closed her eyes, she was greated by a calming black that helped to soothe her nerves. A picture of Dameon flashed across her vision, his curly head of tawny hair stained with the sticky red blood.  
  
"Clear your mind of all your thoughts, your worries, anything that keeps you from concentrating on the task at hand."  
  
Sheriam Sedai's voice cut through to her, keeping her from thinking of her brother.  
  
"Now, imagine that you are a flower, a lovely rose, and that it is dawn, moments before the sun comes up. Imagine your petals closed against the cool night air, but also imagine getting ready to meet the sun."  
  
Ayina struggled for a few minutes, trying to clear her mind of everything but a simple rose. Eventually the mental image came, a simple crimson rose floating in black, waiting for the dawn light to come.  
  
Sheriam's voice floated to her across her concious mind quietly, almost as from a great distance. "Now, the first fingers of the sun's light are climbing over the horizon, and you are beginning to feel the warmth on your outer petals. You are beginning to awake from the cold night, and as the sun climbs higher, you are warming, becoming more relaxed, nearly ready to open yourself."  
  
As she spoke, Ayina felt herself relax gradually, feeling the first rays of days touching herself. Soon the light was everywhere, waiting for her to open herself and submit to it.  
  
" ... you feel the sun's light on every petal, you begin to open, one petal at a time, allowing the sun's light to soak in, absorbing it into yourself as though it is becoming a part of your body... "  
  
Sheriam's voice floated in and out of Ayina's mind. The feeling of light started building, growing around her, surrounding her entirely. A part of her yearned to throw herself into the light, to forever be a part of it and another part held back, not sure if it was the right thing to do.  
  
"... open yourself, Ayina, submit to the sun's light!" Sheriam's soothing voice came suddenly and she no longer held back.  
  
She felt herself opening, letting the light trickle into herself slowly. A feeling of the upmost joy overwhelmed her as she embraced the golden light, a joy greater than life. The small trickle increased until it became a great flood and still she wanted more, wanted to fill herself to bursting.  
  
"That's enough."  
  
Sheriam's voice cracked across her mind and abruptly everything was gone. She was no longer a floating rose, surrounded by the golden light. Once more she was in Sheriam Sedai's study, sitting in a large wooden chair. When she opened her eyes, Sheriam was beaming, her ageless face split with a large smile.  
  
"Yes, you will become quite strong." she said, nodding her head absently.  
  
She turned to a podium that held a thick, ancient book, open to a page with six other names on it. Picking up the quil that sat next to the book, she dipped it into a small pot of water, and then dabbed in in the powdered ink, blotting the nib on a small cloth that sat beside the water. With a skilled hand, she wrote Ayina's name in the Novice Book, and set the quil back down. She turned back to Ayina, her face serious.  
  
"There are a few rules that you must learn for your own safety and the safety of your classmates. While you are a novice, you must never, ever channel without supervision; there is always a temptation to draw more and more Saidar into yourself, and you must learn willpower at the same time you learn to channel. Drawing too much Saidar into yourself can kill you, or still you."  
  
Sheriam shivered at the thought and continued. It was important that every new novice heard this warning.  
  
"When a woman is stilled, she can always sense Saidar, but she can no longer touch it. It can bring a form of madness."  
  
Ayina bit her lip, never wanting to experience being able to sense Saidar but remain completly unable to touch it. Sheriam smiled to ease any sting from her words, her smooth face once again creased with a large smile.  
  
"So long as you channel under supervision, you will not have to worry too much child, but the temptation will always be there. You must learn to restrict yourself and form a stern discapline against drawing too much, as much for your safety as others."  
  
Ayina jumped slightly at the soft knock on the door and flushed, her pale cheeks tinged slightly red. The same Accepted who had led her to the study appeared at Sheriam's beckoning, smiling supportively at Ayina. She must have felt me drawing on Saidar, the thought flitted across Ayina's mind, almost going unnoticed.  
  
"You may go with the Accepted, Ayina. She will take you to an empty room and help you find the proper white dresses required of a novice."  
  
Ayina nodded shakily, rising to her feet slowly. The Accepted was standing by the door, waiting to lead Ayina to her new room. Life in the Tower was sure to be different from anything she had ever known. 


	3. Sword Training

Dueljewl: Okay, not sure how good this chapter is. I might have screwed up royally on the sword fight but if you absoluetly can't stand it I guess you could scroll past it. I don't know if I got all the sword forms right but work with me here, use your imagination.  
  
To clarify something, I use some of the terms from a role-play group I'm in. Like SWiT and WiT. They stand for Senior Warder in Training and Warder in Training. I don't know if RJ uses this method for the levels they reach before becoming a full Warder but it works for me and I don't feel like typing out the whole name every single time.  
  
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Rondin stood in the middle of the practice yard, perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet. Surrounded by the Void, he was completly emotionless, a part of the slightly curving blade -- a sabre from his native Saldea -- in his hands. Sweat trickled down his bare chest as the hot sun beat down on all the trainees in the yard. Across from him, Kain, slightly taller than most Cairhienen, stood with a double bladed long sword gripped in his hands. Both swords were blunted for practice, but they would still leave welts and bruises where they struck.  
  
The young men circled each other warily, each striking out occasionally, testing his opponent, feeling out the best move. Kain charged suddenly, the long sword held in front of him at mid chest. At the last moment he brought it up and slashed down, only to have it parried by Rondin, his sabre archeing in a smooth circle followed by a short slash, the blade turned slightly out so only the flat of the sword would hit the skin.  
  
The lithe Cairheinin twisted out of the way just before Rondin's sabre would have struck home. Rondin, counting on the strike, over balanced and fell forwards, stumbling for a few steps. Thus leaving him open for Kain to heft the long sword and strike Rondin's back with the flat of his sword. Rondin's back arched from the sudden impact, the blunted steel hitting his unprotected skin with a loud, meaty smack; he could feel the welt forming between his shoulder blades already. The Void shook around him and threatened to collapse, jarred by the impact.  
  
He spun around, stumbling slightly, to see Kain standing at the guard position, waiting for him to regain his balance. Around the edges of the Void, Rondin felt his anger flare that Kain felt he had to wait for him.  
  
Kain charged once more, slowing as he moved into The Falcon Swoops, his blade moving quickly in a series of vertical slashes; as soon as one swoop was completed, his blade flashed and changed directions, never stopping it's endless motion. The grip on Rondin's sabre tightened, and he decided to take advantage of his speed and unorthodox style, flowing into The Cat Dances on the Wall.  
  
Kain's eyes widened, not expecting the quick series of jabs, slashes, and parries, each succeding the other and moving too quickly to do anything but block. The two moved in a dance all their own, lost in the rythym of their swords crashing together, the sound of metal on metal ringing across the yard while Warders stood by to supervise; as long as their students followed the guidelines set down by the Warders, why not let them experience what it would be like in real battle, with a real sword weighing down their arms.  
  
Kain lifted his long sword over his head and thrust straight down with the flat of his sword, caught inches from Rondin's shoulder by the curving blade of his sabre. Both young men tried to force their blades away from each other, with neither moving an inch.  
  
"That do be enough." Gaidan Raien's voice echoed distantly in the Void, alerting Rondin to the outside world. "For now at least." He added.  
  
Rondin and Kain slackened their stance, dropping the swords away from each other. As the Gaidan came closer they straightened, arms stiff and backs straight.  
  
"Your improving, that do be true." the Gaidan said, nodding his head as he spoke, his thick Illianer accent and fast speach making what he said hard to understand. He turned to Kain, a frown forming on his face.  
  
"There no be a reason to charge your opponent with every attack, boy. Learn the patience it takes to be a true Gaidan and no some wool-headed whelp with a sharp peice of metal he do be swingin' 'round."  
  
Kain stiffened at the rebuke, his pride being almost as touchy as most Saldean's Rondin knew. Gaidan Raien saw the motion and a part of his face twitched in what might have been a smile, if it had been anyone else.  
  
"And you, Rondin, don't be thinking you didn't make no mistakes either. Your balance do be needing work, that be true."  
  
He nodded, as if to himself, and dismissed the trainees with a wave of his hand. Rondin quickly went to a more relaxed version of the guard stance -- standing staight, his sabre held in front of him at mid chest -- and swung the sabre around to his side in a quarter circle, sheathing it when it reached his side in one smooth motion. Kain performed a similar sheathing techinique, his somewhat more straight lined and stiff. Fists went to chest in a salute to the departing back of the Gaidan.  
  
Kain scowled at Gaidan Raien as he left, his narrow face twisting with anger.  
  
"Wool-headed whelp? Did you hear him? I'm surrounded by bloody fools."  
  
Rondin chuckled to himself, ignoring the Cairheinin's glare, currently focusing on him.  
  
"You nobles'. Someone critizes what you do and suddenly Gaidan's are fools for you to scowl and curse at."  
  
"And what would you know?" he snapped, "You're just a soldier's brat."  
  
"You've just proven my point now." Rondin replied through clenched teeth. "I've seen enough of you lordlings to get the general picture. Strutting around like you're better than those who surround you -- Light! Even Gaidan's! -- and not knowing a day's labor 'till you've received your first blister on hands whose most strenuos job was to lift a cup of wine."  
  
Kain's face redened and he shifted slightly, hardly notticable if someone had not been looking for it. He stood tensed, ready to draw his long sword in a heartbeat. Rondin's hand strayed to the hilt of his sabre; he wouldn't attack first, but he wouldn't be left at unawares either.  
  
A heavy pressure was felt on Rondin's shoulder and the deep rumble of Tyrel, a fellow trainee and borderlander from Sheinar, sounded from over Rondin's shoulder.  
  
"Rondin, Kain." he greeted, nodding his head in each of their directions. "Peace favor your swords."  
  
Rondin murmered a similer welcome, followed by a muttered "Grace favour you." from Kain. Appaerantly the smaller Cairheinen was in no mood to provoke the large, heavily musceled Senior Warder in Training. Kain mumbled something unintelligable, face red with anger, and stocked off, back stiff and movements slightly jerky from a combination of embarressment and rage.  
  
A rumbling laugh from deep in the older man's throat joined Rondin's own quiet laughter as they watched him go.  
  
"Peace! You should not provoke him so, he looked almost ready to explode this time."  
  
"Ah, but he makes it so easy. As soon as it stops being fun, I'll stop making fun of 'his lordship'." Rondin bent a in mock bow full of flurishes and hand sweeps. Tyrel's low, resonant laughter doubled, the surrounding trainees roaring with laughter at Rondin's impersonation.  
  
He straightened, grining broadly, when a small shape hurtled into his stomach, momentarily knocking the wind from him. Ashin backed up a few steps, his eyes drifting upwards till they met Rondin's face. At the raised eyebrows his face burned scarlet, set off more so by his light, blondish- white hair. The lad was no more than eleven and small for his age at that -- even by Cairhienin standards -- earning him the nickname Runt; more knew him by this than his true name.  
  
"Gai-Gaidan Camrion wa-wants to s-see you." he stammered, the blush increasing due to the chuckles of several of the SWiT's. He shifted nervously, shrugging his shoulders uneasily, twisting the bow made for little boys he had in his hands.  
  
"Watch out Rondin, Gaidan Camrion's been out to get you since the day you came here."  
  
"Is this the fifth time this seven-day, or was it the ninth?"  
  
"Have fun mucking stables."  
  
"And don't forget all the practice equipment he's gonna have you cleaning."  
  
Rondin ignored the jeering shouts, his own shoulders shifting nervously, the grin fading from his face. It was considered a miracle if he was not sent to the Gaidan Camrion more than three times in a seven-day, but as of late, Camrion had been on his back more than usual. He winced, thinking of all the stables he had mucked and swords he had polished, all due to offenses the grizzled old Warder had not seen fit to explain.  
  
"Do you know where he is Runt?"  
  
The little boy nodded his head vigorously, pointing across the yard with a small hand. "He's by the targets, helping new recruits with their bows." His voice changed to that of mild disgust. "They don't even know how to notch the arrows properly. I'll be suprised if they manage shoot each other before hitting their own feet."  
  
Rondin's eyes widened in surprise at Runt's comment before his face split into another grin. Runt had been at the Tower for almost a year and just as unskilled as most young boys were when they came. He had picked up the skills quick enough with the help of the older WiT's, including Rondin.  
  
"Wish me luck." Rondin said, mussing Runts' hair as he went passed. The little boy glared, quickly straightening the white-blonde hair.  
  
"Luck." he muttered, fiddling with the small bow he had forgot to put down in his hurry.  
  
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Gaidan Camrion's eyes narrowed as yet another arrow went sailing into the dirt five feet in front of the target. This new batch of recruits were going to need more work than he had thought. If the decision had been up to him none of the woolheaded country oafs or high and mighty lordlings brought before him would have been accepted.  
  
But, as the decision was not up to him, they had all been allowed to stay and train with the Warders; any young man under 18 was allowed to train, so long as he was eager to learn, willing to work, and had not served with a previous army of any kind.  
  
Camrion grunted to himself, deftly moving out of the way just before an arrow went wizzing past his ear; the same spot his head had been moments earlier.  
  
"Enough," he barked, "I've seen enough. You bloody goat-kissing fools couldn't hit the targets if they were two inches from your face. Blood and ashes, I've seen better from blind cripples. Away with you all, finish settling in and report to the dining hall. Maybe with some food in you you'll be able to concentrate."  
  
The recruits saluted, if a bit hesitantly and unpracticed, with fist to chest. He turned to follow after them when Rondin appeared before him. The young man bowed in the Saldean fashion -- leg bent forward, bowed at the waist, and handling the curving blade at his side with one hand. Camrion snorted derisavely, eyeing the trainee as he straightened.  
  
His back was rigidly stiff, one hand resting on the hilt of his sabre. Thick black hair spilled into tilted brown eyes, lit with the faint light of mischeif, and down half his neck. The permanent beginning of a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. He held himself well, if not quite the wolflike grace the Gaidan were known for, and the sabre at his hip seemed a part of him.  
  
"You would have made it faster if you ran." Camrion said nonchalantly, moving off and gesturing for Rondin to follow. Camrion's mouth twitched as he saw the trainee stiffen more, if possible, and follow behind and to the side.  
  
"If I may be so bold as to ask Gaidan?"  
  
"You're going to ask even if I say no so speak up lad and spit it out."  
  
"Runt --"  
  
"Ashin." Camrion cut in, emphasizing the boys true name.  
  
"-- Ashin," Rondin amended, "never explained why you wanted to see me." Rondin said the last in a way that turned it into an unasked question.  
  
"Of course he didn't. He told you I wanted to see you, yes?" He nodded to himself as Rondin murmered agreement, continuing. "That was all the boy was told."  
  
"But Gaidan --"  
  
"Do you see those two, the ones sparing with wooden practice swords?" Camrion's thick fingered hand pointed to a group surrounding two lads practicing a few feet from them. "Look at the one farthest from you. You see how he's so sure of himself, trusting to luck and what little skill he has to help him? That will get him and whoever chooses to bond him killed one day, if he is not turned out of the Tower first."  
  
"I don't see what this has to do with me, Gaidan Camrion." Rondin replied, his voice carrying currents of confusion and annoyance.  
  
"Just this: You're too cocky and sure of yourself for your own good and the Sister you will one day be bound to protect." He answered bluntly. "In a way, you remind me of myself when I first came to the Tower. Too thick- skulled to see the difference between skill and my own arrogance. It's still all a game to you."  
  
Rondin's face was tinged red with anger; after all, his pride had been wounded, and Saldean pride was the easiest to wound.  
  
"I would never endanger a Sister of the White Tower or a fellow Gaidan." Rondin snapped angrily, too caught in his own stubborness to bother with the proper respect due a Warder.  
  
Camrion shook his head somewhat sadly, sighing heavily. "You have missed my point boy." Rondin's face darkened at being called boy, not going unnoticed by Camrion. Camrion's mouth twitched and a small, grim smile crossed his face. "Yes boy. Until you prove otherwise, you are still a boy to me. Pity too, as the Head Warder feels that soon you will be deserving a promotion of sorts to a SWiT."  
  
Camrion left him there, moving on as the boy he had pointed out earlier slumped to the ground from a crack to the head. It was not that he hated Rondin -- Light knew he would probably never have another trainee as adept to the sword and bow as he -- but he was too sure of himself for his own good.  
  
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~  
  
Rondin stood were Gaidan Camrion had left him, a sense of elation battling with anger. If he was to be raised to a Senior Warder in Training, it wouldn't be long before he became a Warder. But Camrion's words stung him still.  
  
'Until you prove otherwise, you are still a boy to me.'  
  
"I'll show you whose a boy." he muttered to himself, stalking off angrily to the Warder barracks.  
  
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~  
  
Okay, that might have dragged on at the end but I needed to add some more characters to give me something to work with. Hope it wasn't too bad. Plz R&R, tell me what you think. Creative critisism welcome. 


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